


If You Give a Manservant a Sword

by JustIvy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustIvy/pseuds/JustIvy
Summary: Arthur and Merlin visit Camelot's newest squires during training.Just a fun, fluffy oneshot. Also posted to FFN.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	If You Give a Manservant a Sword

The lower practice field was filled with the sounds of shouts and the distinctive clacks of wooden practice swords. First-year squires sparred with the unique exuberance of adolescence and whooped with joy as they practiced the indisputably best activity of squirehood. The energy was infectious, and King Arthur smiled to himself as he approached the training grounds, his manservant only a step behind with a bright smile on his face.

As they neared the yard, Arthur could make out different attitudes among the newest cohort of squires: some held themselves with somber concentration as they attempted to remember every instruction; others swung their swords with reckless abandon, enjoying the adrenaline high of the fight; some moved with a natural grace, their technique in need of work but the instinctive talent there nonetheless, making the rest look as though they were attempting cut through shrubs with their wooden swords. And, unfortunately, there were squires with arrogant smirks upon their faces, only half-heartedly attempting the motions they were meant to be practicing. Arthur recognized most of them as the younger brothers and cousins of the knights who currently served at Camelot. The rest were likely the sons of lords who had served their time as knights of the realm long before Arthur became king.

A snort from Merlin drew the king’s attention away from the squires.

“What are you snickering about?”

Merlin grinned and gestured to the squires, “I swear they get younger and smaller every year.”

It was Arthur’s turn to snort, “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. They’re not getting younger; you’re just getting older.”

Merlin shook his head, “No. There is no way I was that young when I was fourteen.”

Arthur lightly swatted at his manservant’s head, “That doesn’t make any sense, you idiot.” Nevertheless, Arthur privately agreed with the sentiment. He could still remember becoming a squire himself: fourteen had seemed so old, practically a man. Now, he could hardly believe the green boys before him were considered old enough to follow their masters into battle if the need arose.

“Sir Robert!” Arthur called out in greeting to the knight supervising the squires.

“Your highness!” Robert responded with an abundance of formality and loud enough for his charges to hear him. Sir Robert gave a shallow bow, and the more observant squires followed suit. The rest took a few more moments to notice the king’s presence and dipped hasty bows at the realization.

Arthur forced back a chuckle and reached from the knight’s arm in greeting.

“I just finished up my own training, and I thought I’d come by and introduce myself and Merlin to the newest recruits.” Arthur gave the knight a meaningful look as they gripped each other’s forearms.

Sir Robert smiled and nodded, “Of course, my lord.” He turned back to the squires who still stood halted. “Back to your exercises, lads. The king wants to see what you’ve learned.” The boys eagerly returned to their work, if a bit more nervously than before, knowing the king himself was watching.

Arthur walked among the sparring pairs, adjusting a grip there and correcting footwork here, with the hapless Merlin tailing him and barely avoiding errant backswings and overenthusiastic follow-throughs. Most of the boys were grateful for the advice and thanked the king with a touch of awe. But eventually one boy bristled at the correction to his swing, and his offered thanks was less genuine and more dutiful.

“You’re Sir William’s brother, aren’t you?” Arthur asked.

The lad straightened with pride and nodded, “Yes, Sire. I’m Nathan, my lord.”

Arthur smiled encouragingly, “I am glad to see you following in his footsteps.”

Nathan brightened and explained, “Will-, I mean, Sir William taught me swordplay last summer. So I already know everything Sir Robert is teaching us.” The unasked question shone brightly in the boy’s eyes.

“Keep on practicing, and I’ll ask Sir Robert if he thinks you can work on more advanced movements.” Arthur observed the satisfied look on Nathan’s face, then moved on to the next pair of squires. Merlin, however, stayed to watch the young Nathan return to his practice.

When Nathan’s partner stopped to shake out his hand, Merlin approached Nathan. “Your elbow is still too high when you swing. You won’t be able to follow through as quickly if you do that.” Merlin offered the boy a friendly smiled and moved to show him the correct position.

“Don’t touch me!” Nathan barked. “What does a servant know about swordplay, anyhow?”

Merlin’s mouth twitched in amusement and said gently, “I’ve been in a few battles in my time as Arthur’s manservant. I’ve learned a few things along the way.”

Nathan sneered, “I’m impressed you made out of them alive. There’s a reason men like you can’t become knights. Go back to following the king around. That’s probably all—”

Nathan was cut off by the king’s hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

Suddenly less sure of himself, Nathan stammered out, “My lord, uh, I just don’t know if your servant knows all that much about how to use a sword. Like a knight, I mean. A footsoldier, maybe, but...”

Arthur saved the boy from having to continue by laughing out loud. “Is Merlin talking a big game? There’s a reason I hardly ever let him use a sword. I’m afraid he’ll cut his own hand off.”

The king turned to his manservant and asked in amusement, “You really think you could take on Nathan here, Merlin? He’s had more training than most of the lads here.”

Merlin shrugged, “I could give it a try.”

Arthur laughed again, “What do you say, Nathan? Teach my manservant a lesson, for me? It doesn’t mean much if I beat him in a fight.”

The uncertainty that had tainted the boy vanished, and he twirled his practice sword confidently, “Of course, my lord. I’d be happy to.”

Arthur motioned for one of the nearby squires to hand him a practice sword which he tossed to Merlin with a wink. The manservant caught the sword by its hilt and hefted it lightly a few times.

Arthur directed the growing audience to give the squire and servant space, then called out, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Nathan charged at the Merlin swiftly, and the manservant brought his wooden sword up to block the blow just in time.

Arthur watch the fight with an amused grinned and contemplated once again the enigma that was Merlin. It was years ago that Arthur first realized that his manservant paid some attention during Arthur’s training sessions. Much like with his other work, Merlin proved to be a quick study, needing minimal instruction, and learning terms and concepts quickly. The man could answer almost any technical question thrown at him. But, just like his chores, when the time came to put that knowledge to practice, the result was something of a barely controlled disaster. No matter how well Merlin understood how he was meant to move the sword, the weapon never came close to being an extension of his arm as it should, and instead the two seemed to move in near impossible contrast to each other. Similarly, Merlin’s clumsy feet made a mess of the intricate footwork that he could describe flawlessly but never perform. And yet, chores and fighting once again alike, Merlin always managed to achieve some sort of success. The deed was never done quite fully or properly, but Arthur’s room never got too untidy and Merlin survived skirmish and battle, often without a scratch.

As such, though his movements weren’t graceful and he barely refrained from tripping over his own feet, Merlin was obviously toying with increasingly frustrated Nathan. The young squire’s blows were batted away or avoided altogether, and he only just managed to parry the servant’s awkward swings.

Finally, Nathan gave in to his frustration and forwent his past training. Gripping the hilt of his wooden sword with both hands, the squire swung wildly at the servant, throwing the entirety of his adolescent weight into the attack. Merlin easily sidestepped the attempted blow and smacked his own sword against Nathan’s buttocks as he passed. Enraged, Nathan turned to swing again but Merlin’s sword was there to rap smartly against his knuckles and his grip loosed in both pain and shock. The servant made quick work of knocking the wooden piece out his hands and firmly planted his foot on the dropped weapon.

A smattering of cheers and a few boos arose from the crowd of squires. Arthur waited a few moments for the shouts to die down, then addressed his manservant, “That was quite a display there, Merlin. I don’t know if anyone else could possibly mimic a chicken trying to hold a sword as accurately as you did.” He turned to the squires standing near him, “What should my manservant have done to fix his awful footwork?” The squires exchanged glances before one tentatively raised his hand to offer an answer.

As Arthur distracted the crowd with questions about both Nathan and Merlin’s performances, the manservant offered his hand to the red-faced Nathan. “Like I said, I’ve been in more than my fair share of battles.”

Nathan scowled at the outstretched hand and leaned over to pick up his practice sword.

“And I’ve been watching King Arthur train with his knights for years, even before he became king.” Merlin chuckled ruefully, “When he was the prince, he’d use me as a practice dummy when he got tired of the straw ones.”

Nathan barely suppressed a laugh. “Really?”

Merlin nodded sheepishly. “He’d hand me a shield and just go at it. The worst was the mace. It was his favorite weapon for a little while.” Merlin offered his hand again and this time Nathan took it.

“I suppose there’s no shame in losing to someone that’s trained with the king.”

Merlin grinned. “Exactly!”

Having seen the handshake, Arthur dismissed his audience of squires and approached his manservant and the humbled squire.

Arthur clapped Nathan on the shoulder. “You show promise, lad. A few years of training and you’ll be able to thrash my manservant properly.”

Nathan laughed and shook his head. “If you don’t mind, my lord, I’d rather not fight him again.”

Arthur shrugged, “Suit yourself.” Then he turned to Merlin, “You, on the other hand, were a mess. I don’t think I’ve seen more appalling work from a drunk man.”

As the two turned to walk off the practice field, Nathan he heard the manservant respond, “Well, Sire, you can hardly expect me to compete with Gwaine. And I haven't any ballast to help me balance unlike some weightier kings I know."

The king cuffed the back of his manservant’s head eliciting an offend, “Ow!”

Nathan shook his head in amazement at the peculiar servant.

The event was the topic of much discussion among the squires for the rest of the week, and Nathan found himself as something of a celebrity with his peers. Once, Sir Robert heard the boys recounting the event.

“The king does that with every new cohort of squires,” he explained. “It’s just his way of introducing himself and Merlin.” Having gained the attention of all the squires, Sir Robert lowered his tone conspiratorially, “If any of you know any of the lads coming in next year, don’t tell them about this, alright? It’ll ruin the fun of it.”


End file.
